Mea Macula
by Inwenalas
Summary: Seven months after that day on the beach, Erik pays Charles a visit. Things have changed, more than Erik knows or dares to see. Spoilers for First Class.


**Mea Macula**

Summary: Seven months after that day on the beach, Erik pays Charles a visit. Things have changed, more than Erik knows or dares to see.

A/N: Inconsistencies are mine. Other than a tiny bit of innocent research, I focused on the movie while writing this fic. I hope you like it.

The title's Latin for: "My flaw" or "My stain".

Disclaimer: It's only a given that I don't own X-Men: First Class.

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><p>A BIG thank you to my amazing beta define_serenity, for giving me the best advice possible and for encouraging any writing endeavour my (even if she owns half of it) brain cooks up.<p>

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><p>"I have often lamented that we cannot close our ears with as much ease as we can our eyes."<p>

~ Richard Steele

l-l-l-l

_She didn't do this, Erik. __You did_.

Erik knows what Charles' words mean. This. _Everything_.

They're both fighting for the same thing, even if freedom seems to be a liquid concept. Freedom was never about acceptance. It cannot breach the borders holding them, because it just doesn't exist. If he believed in acceptance, Erik would understand, but the beauty that it represents is a lie, no more than that. Utopia is fundamental to naivety. Humanity has shown him what it's capable of and, more importantly, what it's _not_ capable of. Erik can't force himself to believe in futile dreams of harmony.

It takes Erik a little over seven months. Seven months is a long time to think about spoken words, but in reality it's the unspoken ones that bother him. Talking is not something he wants to do, it's something he has to do because the pressure he feels is stronger than he is, stronger than every mutant power combined. Guilt is a crazy thing, but even a powerful feeling like guilt can't change what's happened. Guilt is about aftermath, about dealing with the things we can't deal with.

Erik removes the helmet. It's not an unthinkable possibility, what if Charles _commands_ him to leave? The professor's telepathic powers could easily do that. On the other hand, it's not too difficult to just waltz into Charles' school wearing the helmet that shields him from his friend's abilities. _Friend_. Are they still friends? The uncertainty is the one thing that tells him what to do. He _needs_ to know.

Charles may be stubborn when it comes to his ideals and sympathy towards humans, he's not stubborn enough to deny him a conversation, especially if he makes it clear from the start that he's not looking to start a fight.

He feels Charles' mental presence the moment he removes the Russian helmet.

'_You're close._'

Erik doesn't believe that the telepath is fond of stating the obvious. There's always something behind the man's words that conveys so much more than just the obvious. It's mostly surprise he picks up, but there's more, something he can't quite put a finger on.

Charles shows him his exact location and an instant later he also knows there will be no one stopping him from getting there. Trying would be foolish in the first place and Charles is anything but a fool.

He sees the changes. A new painting on the wall becomes more than an artistic tendency. A lot can happen in seven months. Every little detail reminds him of what could've been even if those words resemble a paradoxical illusion. He didn't come here to change his mind.

_We do not_.

It's not impossible to want the exact same thing and something completely different at the same time. What if the only thing they have in common is the will to fight for what they believe in? Would that erase everything? Does it mean they can't be civil, or even friends?

Erik wouldn't call himself the subtle or civil one and he wonders if Charles, on the other hand, will be able to put their differences aside when it matters. Ideals change those things that are taken for granted on any other _normal_ day. Only, mutants aren't considered normal and they never will be. Peace makes little sense in this situation. Peace can't equal giving up the small defences you end up building after years of experiencing _human_ nature. Spending all the time in the world defending yourself and then seeing it destroyed by not noticing something that's right in front of you. It can and will lead to a downfall beyond your control.

Charles' words linger in his head, as if the magnetism flowing through his body is trying to make sure they stay there. He's sure Charles could determine his thinking pattern, but he's also certain that the words he hears aren't the professor's doing. It's a conscience he doesn't link to his own personality even if he should. He's not the person Charles thinks he is. He's incapable of the good Charles is giving him credit for. Ironic, because his sense of good doesn't even come close to what the professor deems good. He just can't be that particular good person.

He'd rather fight and protect his own species than attempt to live together, and by doing so live a lie. In the end humans will turn on them because mutants are the_ different_ ones. There will be fear and fear leads to destruction more than almost anything else. The kind of atrocitieshumans are capable of baffle him. If humans can put labels on other humans, then they can certainly put labels on mutants and it will be even easier to do so. Shaw was a mutant, the others _just_ following his orders were not as far as he knows.

Erik reaches Charles' study without encountering even one student, exactly like he was shown. He doesn't bother knocking. Even if the man's not reading his mind right now, there's no doubt he knows the door's about to open.

The first thing he notices is the chessboard in the corner of the room. When his eyes focus on Charles he's not surprised to see him leaning over a couple of books and notes.

"Erik."

Just the mention of his name invites him further inside and guides him to one of the chairs near Charles' desk. He sits down in it, but while he should at least feel a little comfortable, he just can't get rid of the thought that something's off, terribly wrong even. It's worse than the awkward feeling he was expecting just minutes ago.

"You've made your decision and I've made mine," Erik starts.

"It wasn't a decision for either of us, my friend."

That's not why he's here either, even that huge proverbial elephant in the room might not be the real reason. Avoiding only makes sense when it has an actual effect. If you're avoiding to avoid, then you're _not_ avoiding per definition. Silence doesn't make things easier, it's just another form of anger or frustration.

"That's not why I'm here."

Charles gives him a nod. "I know."

Of course he does, even without reading his mind. Erik takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. You got shot because of me."

It's not the weight of the world on his shoulders, but it's nearly as heavy. He's not sorry for being there that day and following his own plan, for being who he is. Charles should know as much. The reaction he receives doesn't come close to his expectations. There's no anger, no rage. There's no serenity and the point between those two poles is remarkably absent as well. There's just _nothing_. Then what is this? A _façade_, but hiding what exactly?

"It was an accident," the professor tells him.

An accident, but it's not okay.

"I'm fine," Charles insists.

_He's not_. This conversation doesn't feel right, even after all that's happened.

It doesn't take Erik very long to figure it out and it's so obvious he nearly missed it.

"You're lying. Drop the illusion."

Charles gives him a chuckle in reply, but there's no humor detectable in it.

"When did you become a telepath?"

"I didn't, you're just not a very good one at the moment." It's not meant to be funny at all. In fact, he clings to every word like a lifeline.

"Thank you very much." Charles turns his head and stares out of the window.

Ignoring the sarcasm, Erik slams his hand on the desk in front of him. "Stop avoiding this conversation! What are you not telling me?"

"Let me _see_." Erik tells himself he's not begging, but if anyone can make him beg it's the one friend he both gained and lost in such a short time.

"You don't want to _see_, Erik."

The words hurt, but they are true. He doesn't, but only because he doesn't know which one of his options is the lesser evil.

"I'm _here_. I'm here now. Drop the illusion, Charles."

"It's not an illusion. I'm showing you what you want to see and clearly it's not the truth."

Erik closes his eyes. When he reopens them the room has changed. Everything in it looks _older_ somehow, including Charles. The bags under the man's eyes aren't hard to discover, he's sure they're reflected on his own face as well. The one thing which makes him incapable of continuing their conversation is the wheelchair Charles is sitting in. It's hard to imagine a ricochet can do that much damage and he's directly responsible for the path that particular bullet took. Moira fired it and _he _deflected it. It wasn't supposed to happen, but it did.

"I'm surprised you didn't know yet," Charles breaks the silence first.

"I told Emma not to reach out and you didn't either." It doesn't sound like an accusation, just a statement with a slightly deeper meaning.

"Hank's rebuilding Cerebro."

Even if that gives Charles a good explanation for not keeping tabs on him, Erik knows that this doesn't even come close to the real reason. They both know it.

"You're the one who says we shouldn't hide who we are."

"This is not me hiding who I am."

"Then what do you call this?" Erik can't keep the anger out of his voice, but then it hits him.

_He's sparing me the guilt. _

_She didn't do this, Erik. __You did_.

_But why?__ The guilt is his to carry. Charles has no right to take that away. Right now, it's the only sensation that makes sense. He will bear it, let it stick to his skin like metal to a magnet._

It still feels like he's been gutted and it doesn't make Charles any less of a hypocrite.

"You can't _protect_ me from who I am." Erik is surprised by his own ability to stay relatively calm.

"We're both blind fools, Erik."

_Food for thought_ and Charles leaves it at that before pointing his thumb to the chessboard a little further.

"I'll take black," he adds.

Erik gets up and moves the chessboard and its pieces to the desk.

"Black doesn't suit you, Charles," Erik notes, accepting the white queen Charles picks up and offers him anyway.

"More than you know."

They play their chess game in complete silence, as if neither of them ever learned how to speak. That moment in Charles' study words are redundant anyway.

Maybe Charles is right, maybe they are too different to be friends and maybe their goals aren't choices at all, just decisions based on who they are and who they've become through the years, but then Charles is also the one who reminds him that _anything_ is possible. The things that matter don't necessarily equal the things that make sense. Maybe they are not that different after all.

They don't finish the game, but only so they can finish it in the future, as a _promise_.

"I will see you, my friend," Erik says before getting up and heading for the door. He doesn't need to turn around to know Charles has a tight smile on his lips.

'_Soon.'_The mental connection dies only a second later.

Right there, Erik knows that he will take _soon_ over _never again_ any day when it comes to, not his ally, but his _friend_, maybe the only real friend he will ever know.

**The end**

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><p>AN: Thank you for reading. Leaving a review would make my day. *hint*

(I'm _considering_ writing a multi-chapter fic as well, so feel free to poke me or give me ideas for that matter.)


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